Sacrament
by justcallmesmitty
Summary: [Spoiler/Speculation Fic]: Set in the aftermath of 1x07, this one-shot explores a possible storyline for 1x08 using various spoilers and trailers and a lot of crazy speculation. Due to its spoiler-y nature, that's all the description you get. You've been warned! [Frary]


**Author's Note: **So, that really didn't take long. Too many conversations and some great ideas from lilywang69 over on the Fanforum Francis/Mary thread led to me spending my afternoon writing this (instead of doing what I ought to have been doing, which was not writing this). It is heavily based on spoilers and speculation for 1x08, "Fated," and the accompanying trailers from both the CW and M3 in Canada. You've been warned. This is my own version, woven together with some of my own crazy and tragic thoughts. The working title was this: "Bat-Crazy Unnamed Post-107/Pre-108 Fic." Hopefully, you'll enjoy it. :)

**Disclaimer: **I so very much have no claim whatsoever to the CW's "Reign" or any of its characters. I have, however, lifted lines and scenes from the previews for 1x08, but the storyline is mine and, if it aligns at all with what actually happens in 1x08, it is purely by coincidence and unintentional.

* * *

Francis broke apart from Mary suddenly, extracting himself a bit from the tangle of legs and swollen lips they had created. He rested his forehead against hers, catching his breath and watching as she caught hers.

"Do something crazy with me."

Her eyes shot open, a smile tugging coyly at her lips.

"Isn't this crazy enough? For us to be here, doing what we have been doing?"

He grinned, a bit lightheaded by the effect this woman had on him.

"Not quite." He paused, making sure he had her full attention. "Marry me."

"What?" Her abrupt attempt to sit up was a certain indicator that he had caught her off her guard. He leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on her lips.

"Marry me." His words vibrated against her lips. Another kiss, this time a little longer, a little deeper. "Tomorrow."

She sat fully upright at this, pushing his body away from hers slightly, attempting to clear her head of its desires and gauge his level of seriousness.

"That is crazy! You can't be serious!" Her face reflected the shock of what she was processing. "We couldn't possibly-" He leaned in again to kiss her, taking the chance in her surprise to lay her back down on the bed.

Pulling back, he spoke softly, tracing circles with his thumb upon her cheek. "We could, possibly."

"But how?" He obviously had her attention, and it was no question that her desires matched his own. She looked up at him, her voice curious.

The afternoon sun slanted in through the windows. They had already tarried too long in his chambers. Surely her ladies would be searching for her soon. This was not a conversation to abandon, however.

"_We_ are the sacrament of marriage, Mary. Everyone else is merely a witness. According to current church law, all we must do is be married before a priest. We are of age. Perhaps we could at last take control of what should have been ours from the beginning. Perhaps we could forget about France, about Scotland, and just be together. Then, it would be right for us to continue as we have been since you came in earlier … I know you told me never to stop, but I _must_. If we were finally married … "

His voice drifted and he looked up to see Mary captivated by his words, by his cockamamie plan. She finished his thought for him.

" … Then there would be no reason left to stop." He nodded, lifting her chin with his forefinger. "It's a lovely idea, really it is, Francis, but could we really go through with such a thing? It's nice to consider forgetting about France and Scotland, but the reality is that we are who we are … "

"Just think about it," he whispered into her ear, moving to nip at the junction between her earlobe and neck. "In the meantime, I'll speak to the priest and make sure it could happen – just in case."

* * *

Following the next morning's breakfast, Francis stole Mary away to the gardens, away from prying eyes and interloping ears.

They walked side-by-side, hands woven together between them. The day was beautiful, the grass beneath their feet lush and the birds chirping sweetly in the boughs above their heads. Francis' question from the previous day hung between them, adding a certain spark to each small touch, glance and breath.

"Have you given thought to my proposal?" Francis ventured, pulling them to a stop in a clearing. They had long since passed by any servant or worker who might find themselves privy to the young couple's exchange.

He turned to her, an uneasy twinkle teasing from his eyes. She faced him, sensing his nervous vulnerability.

"Have you seen the priest? Is it even possible?" Her question, intended to stall a bit while she wrestled with whether her decision had been the right one, did little to deter Francis in his earnestness.

"I spoke with the man this morning. While I would love for you to be my bride this very moment and, indeed, though I suggested today as the very day for that very thing, he suggested we wait until tomorrow, when there are fewer masses and more opportunities to slip in and out unnoticed."

Mary, stunned, remained silent, her mind made up but afraid to speak such words aloud.

"Is that a 'yes,' Mary Stuart?" He asked. "Because the only reason you should be concerned about whether or not it is even possible is if you are saying, 'yes.'"

He looked at her hopeful and descended to his knee.

"Mary, just Mary – I love you. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

A wide smile broke out on her face. _Duty be damned_, she thought.

"Yes, of course, I will. You dear man, how I love you!"

His face broke out into the widest expression of happiness she had ever seen. He stood up, lifted her into his arms and spun her around delightedly. They both laughed openly for the joy that was in their hearts.

Knowing they must hasten back to the castle, lest they be missed, Francis took the opportunity to kiss Mary thoroughly, enjoying the privacy the clearing afforded them. He pulled away, amazed at the young woman before him, clearly ready to follow him wherever he went.

"Tomorrow, then?" He spoke as his breath caught up to him, and they began to make their way back toward the castle.

She leaned into his shoulder and sighed contentedly. "Tomorrow."

* * *

Upon their return, Mary found herself rushed by her ladies, who had been looking for her about the castle to no avail. They clucked over and petted her, reassuring themselves that she had indeed come to no harm.

Aylee remained with her as she entered her rooms, Greer having left for the kitchens to see to their mid-day meal and Lola having ventured to the infirmary to see Kenna, who was still recovering from the beating she had received at the hand of Count Vincent's soldiers.

As soon as the door shut, Mary walked to the armoire that held her dresses, beckoning Aylee to join her. "Which one should I wear tomorrow?" she inquired of the girl.

Immediately growing suspicious at Mary's interest in attire, Aylee looked at the young queen shrewdly. "Is there a reason you are so set on picking a dress for tomorrow now, Mary?"

Mary shrugged, hoping not to clue Aylee in to any of what currently inhabited her mind. "No reason," she said simply, rifling through the garments. "I just thought it would be nice to pick one today instead of in the morning."

"Of course … " Aylee grew keenly aware of Mary avoiding her eyes. The girl crossed her arms and waited, refusing to walk over and weigh dress choices if she wasn't going to divulge her reasons. Mary eventually noticed Aylee's lack of movement, finally turning and catching Aylee's eye. She found she could no longer maintain her secret, her excitement bubbling over noticeably onto her face.

Wide-eyed at Mary's transformation, Aylee's mouth gaped open. The queen was glowing in her happiness.

"Mary, tell me! What is it?"

Mary crossed to Aylee, grabbed her hands and spun them both around in circles just as they had done in childhood. "I have a secret," she laughed.

"I can tell," replied Aylee, suppressing a giggle at Mary's behavior. "If you tell me, I will help you pick a dress ... " She figured it was worth an attempt to bribe Mary if she gained an understanding of what was happening.

Slowing their spins due to dizziness, the girls dropped onto the couch. Mary leaned in to whisper in Aylee's ear – "Francis and I are getting married. I will be marrying him tomorrow night."

Aylee's astonishment was apparent at her friend's revelation. "What are you talking about, Mary? You can't possibly-"

"We can, and we will," spoke Mary, clasping Aylee's hand, her tone firm yet still joyful. "Now, will you help me pick out a dress? I would love to wear something Francis has not yet seen me wear."

Speechless, Aylee held up her end of the bargain to assist Mary in choosing a dress. They settled on a lovely cream-colored garment and embroidered overlay, as the day was likely to hold a chill.

"Are you sure, Mary?" inquired Aylee, hesitantly. Her only desire was to see her friend happy.

"Yes, I am sure, my dear Aylee. I have never been more certain of anything."

A knock sounded at the door and Mary moved to open it.

Her page stood before her with a summons to see Queen Catherine in her chambers. _I wonder what in the world Catherine wants to see me for_, she asked herself as she bid Aylee goodbye and traveled toward the queen's rooms. _Certainly, she hasn't heard of our plans, has she?_

Her arrival announced, Mary was led into Catherine's presence.

"Your Majesty," Mary addressed Catherine cautiously. She curtsied and moved further into the room.

"Please sit," the older woman said coldly, motioning to a nearby chair.

"You are likely wondering why I have requested this audience with you, Mary. It is time I told you something you need to know." Mary's curiosity piqued, she sat at the edge of the seat's cushion, awaiting Catherine's next words.

"As you know, Nostradamus is prone to visions. He has informed me that you will be the cause of Francis' death. He has seen it. I have arranged for you to speak with him if you do not believe me, but I thought it best you hear it before Henry announces a date for you and Francis to wed. That way, you can decide if you value his life more than you value whatever nonsense there is between you and my son."

The elder queen's voice seeped with hard bitterness and, though Mary was tempted to believe her, she remembered all that had transpired between them since her return to the French Court and decided she would seek out Nostradamus before any decisions were made about Catherine's claims.

She thanked Catherine for the information and graciously left to wander the corridors in search of Nostradamus.

* * *

Mary found Nostradamus in the infirmary, as expected. What was not expected, however, was the unnerving way he was staring vacantly at the wall. Not eager to disturb the man's trance, Mary began to step back toward the door. It was then she heard his rough voice cut through the stillness.

"One of you will die before the next frost mounts."

She turned to face him once again, his eyes slowly refocusing as they registered her presence in the room.

"I'm sorry?" she stammered, confused by his words.

"That is all I have seen. I know no more, Your Grace. Now, I believe you have come to see me after speaking with Queen Catherine?"

She had his full attention now and slowly walked to stand near him. "Yes, I have. Is what she says true? Have you seen Francis' death at my hand?"

He shook his head, sadly. "I have not seen his death at your hand, but I have seen his death. I've seen his body, cold to your touch, lifeless because of his love for you."

Mary gasped at this, not knowing how to process what the seer had told her. She shook her head, "You have said that some fates can be changed." The man softened at the earnestness in her face, guilt marking his features at his gift's inability to be escaped.

"Some can, it is true."

"Then how do I change it?" she questioned, her heart racing in a frantic panic at the thought of losing Francis.

"I do not know. It may be that you cannot. Not this one."

* * *

_Nonsense_, she kept telling herself. _It has to be purely nonsense_. She walked the corridors back to her rooms and shook her head, telling herself the man had just been lucky with regard to Portugal and England, and that everything else was just vague enough to help him keep his position at court.

She rounded a corner and bumped headlong into someone traveling in the opposite direction. It took a moment for her to realize she had walked into Francis.

"Mary? Are you all right? You seem a bit … unnerved." He tugged at her arm and pulled them both into an alcove. She didn't know how to answer, so he continued. "Where have you been? I was told you went to see my mother, but you weren't there when I looked. I was beginning to worry … "

"You needn't have worried," she finally spoke. "I spoke with your mother and went to confirm her words with Nostradamus, and now I am attempting to rid it all from my mind. It is all superstition and nonsense." He could tell she was trying to convince herself of something, but decided not to press the matter.

"Are you sure?" She nodded her head in response to his question.

"I should be going, though. I am sure my ladies will be waiting to prepare for the evening meal. I will meet you there soon."

And, with that, she hurried off down the corridor, leaving a rather confused Francis in her wake.

* * *

The next morning dawned brightly, waking one sleeping queen from her slumber. Her dreams filled with both joyful and nightmarish things had kept rest from her for most of the night. She rose and began to dress, hoping that her lady's maid or one of her ladies would be along shortly to help with the corset.

Sure enough, Aylee soon appeared and began tightening the laces. "Did you sleep well?" she asked.

"Not really," Mary replied with a weary smile. "I think my excitement got the better of me."

Aylee finished the laces and the girls went in search of the others so they could find something to eat.

Shortly after breakfast, Francis came to find her. He took her into his arms and whispered huskily into her ear, "You look lovely. I don't think I can wait any longer."

To the rest of the room, so they could all hear his words, he inquired, "How do you feel about a stroll this morning?"

She looked into his eyes, questioningly, realizing he was changing the plan. "That would be lovely, Francis," she replied, trying to keep her composure in the presence of her ladies.

Greer slipped out to grab a cloak for warding off the morning's chill and Mary saw Aylee wink at her from her perch near the window. Lola presented Mary with a wrapped tartlet from the kitchen to stow away as a snack, since she hadn't eaten much in anticipation of the day.

"Thank you, Lola. I will see you girls later today, then. If anyone calls for me, please let them know I will be back shortly."

The pair left the room arm-in-arm and started toward the castle entrance. Mary covered her head with her cloak, careful to conceal the small crown that rested in her hair. Together, they made their way toward the church on the grounds.

Luckily, the cool air kept most people inside. They walked quickly to stay warm, stopping only once or twice to rest briefly before they reached the small chapel.

Upon arrival, they were met by an aging priest. He ushered them quickly inside and barred the door behind them. The three of them stood in the nave.

"Are you certain you wish to do this, Dauphin?" asked the priest. "While true that the sacrament of marriage is between a man and a woman both consenting and of age, I do fear your father's response."

Francis nodded, eager to proceed. "Yes, Father. I am certain."

The old man glanced over at Mary. "And you, Your Grace, you are certain?"

"Yes," she responded, nodding in agreement.

"Well, then," the priest resigned. "Let us proceed, shall we? Come with me."

Francis smiled over at Mary, who had removed her cloak. He took hold of her hand and they followed the priest to the altar, on the verge of being led into vows that would bind them together for eternity – a bond that none of their parents could contest without falling out of favor with the Pope himself.

* * *

They thanked the priest for his service and placed in his hands a generous offering for the church's coffers. Their surroundings still void of people, they raced back to the castle, eager to take advantage of the grey afternoon indoors.

Aylee greeted them, having been on the lookout. Taking Mary's cloak, she led them to Mary's rooms, where she indicated the tea that had been prepared for them in anticipation of their return. She slipped back out the door, mentioned to the guards that the pair inside was not to be disturbed for any reason, and traipsed off to find the other girls before treating herself to a walk out of doors.

Meanwhile, Francis barred the door behind Aylee's exit and returned to Mary's side. He found her searching her cloak for the tartlet Lola had provided earlier. Successful in locating the pastry, she held it up victoriously and he laughed at her exuberance.

He felt in his pocket for a pouch and emptied its contents into his hand. Picking out the smaller of the two items, he placed it on Mary's left middle finger. "For you, Mary." And, then, he picked up the other, intending to place it on his own left middle finger, but he was stopped by Mary's hand grabbing hold of the small metal circle.

"I will take care of that, thank you." Her tone was teasingly defiant as she slipped it onto his finger. She then picked up the tartlet, breaking off a piece and placing it in her mouth. Another piece split and she lifted it to his lips.

"You must be hungry," she teased. "We walked all morning."

He took the bite from her fingers, eager for more than just food.

"I am hungry," he spoke, closing the distance between the two. "But I am afraid no food will satisfy me."

He started to trail light kisses down her neck and she shivered at his touch. "This dress is lovely, but I don't think you'll be needing it anymore," he whispered into her ear before he knelt to tug at the dress's hemline, lifting it over her head. Spinning her, he set to work, slowly loosening the laces of her corset.

His arms wrapped around her from behind and he placed a tender kiss upon her right shoulder before turning her to face him.

"Well, wife," he paused, savoring the taste of that word on his tongue. "What shall we do now?" Obviously, he wasn't expecting an answer. He swept Mary up and carried her to the bed, his kisses turning hungrier as he laid her down and took his place over her. The next hours marked the sweet and long-awaited beginning of their marriage – a sacrament most holy, which none could break.

* * *

They were awakened in the afternoon by a loud pounding on the door. _Surely, Aylee had told the guards they were not to be disturbed? _Perplexed, Francis slipped his shirt back over his head and crossed the room to discover the reason for the interruption.

He opened the door to find Bash standing there.

"Francis? What are you-" Bash started to question his brother's presence in Mary's rooms before remembering why he had been sent to summon the queen. "Lola sent me," Bash relayed. "There has been an incident and she sent me to get Mary." Worry filled the older brother's face. "Francis, it's Aylee."

Concern immediately wrote itself into Francis' eyes. "Where is she?"

"The infirmary. She doesn't have long. Mary must come soon or I fear … "

"All right, then." Francis tried to wrap his mind around his brother's news. "I will tell Mary." He nodded as he closed the door and returned to the bed.

"Mary," he traced her arm with his newly ringed finger. "Mary, darling, there has been an incident. It's Aylee."

She bolted upright from her reclined position. "What happened?" she asked, wide-eyed.

He shook his head, "I'm not certain. Bash was sent to find you. Mary-" his voice broke a little. "He says she doesn't have much time."

Mary sprung from the bed, throwing on a nightgown and a dressing robe. She didn't care if anyone questioned her choices for the middle of the afternoon – she just knew she needed to get to Aylee as quickly as she could.

"Where is she?" she whispered, securing the robe and some slippers.

"In the infirmary. I'll go with you." In spite of his best efforts to pace her, Mary sped down the main stairs and into the room where Nostradamus treated those ill and ailing. She stopped cold at what she saw, her ladies weeping at the side of the cot where Aylee lay bloodied and barely moving.

Francis caught up to Mary and set his hands on her arms from behind, hoping to steady her in the case she might have need of his strength.

"What happened?" she asked for a second time, expecting answers from those she now questioned.

"She was on a walk this afternoon, too close to the bloodwood," Nostradamus began to say. "Bash found her as someone began to drag her into the woods. Her stomach had already been slit open." He bowed his head, "I am afraid there is nothing we can do."

Mary knelt at Aylee's side. _Sweet, loyal Aylee!_ She began to weep, realizing her friend would be no longer for this world. Aylee's breathing ceased soon after, and Nostradamus took the care to close her eyelids. Francis lifted Mary from the floor, gathering her into his arms and removing her back to her rooms.

As they arrived at Mary's chambers, she began frantically to rummage through her things, her thoughts crowded with the seer's visions. She found a small valise and opened the armoire, removing three simple dresses and setting them into the bag. Francis watched her, seeking to understand her actions. Finally, she grabbed her cloak, put it around her shoulders and started for the door.

All he understood was her intention to leave, so he blocked her way.

"Mary! Where are you going?" he asked, fearful of her answer.

She swept at the tears that would not cease their fall down her cheeks, but she would not answer. Instead, she stood stalwart, challenging him to continue his attempts to keep her there.

"Mary!"

She leaned in to kiss him gently, achingly. When she spoke, her voice was soft but he did not miss its words.

"I must leave, Francis. I must return to the convent."

"You can't possibly do that. We were just married this morning!" His confusion turned quickly to panic.

"It is the only way to keep those I love safe, including you."

"Have you not heard a thing I've said, Mary? I love you. You cannot leave." His face revealed the pain brought at the thought of losing her just now, when they had finally figured out how to be together.

"Love is irrelevant to people like us. It is better you are safe. Now, move aside." Her words were cold, queen-like. She shoved into him, sending him just far enough to the right for her to quickly open and slip through the door.

Utterly taken aback by her behavior, he paused a moment to regroup before racing after her. The corridor was empty. _What just happened? __Where could she have gone?_

He began walking toward the castle entrance, knowing she at the least intended to leave the grounds. _The stables! _

Francis ran toward the outbuilding, but it was too late. He saw Mary flying down the road on her horse, her cloak whipping behind her and her wedding ring gleaming as she clutched the reins.

He fell to his knees, in anguish and in loss, and that is where Bash found him.


End file.
